


Deep Warm Brown

by SelenaEstella



Series: Prompted works [14]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Centaurs, Fawns, M/M, Mythstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:45:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelenaEstella/pseuds/SelenaEstella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Mythstuck!GamTav, with Gamzee as a fawn and Tavros as a centaur.</p><p>A flute-playing fawn comes across a sleeping centaur on a sunny afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep Warm Brown

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed writing this one. This isn't a concept I’d really thought about but it’s something I seem to be getting fond of. Who knows, I might do more.

Wind whispers through the trees; leaves dance in little flurries of wind. Distantly birds call to one another, sweet linting cries doing little to disturb the peaceful quiet. A young fox darts suddenly from the undergrowth, pausing to raise its snout in the dabbled light before running on, patter of its paws fading quickly into the late-afternoon stillness.

It had not seen the figure there and indeed, not many would. The bronze brown blends in perfectly with the forest’s woven quilt of leaves; his un-moving existence presents him as but a part of the tree he leans against.

Weak legs… he cannot stand to sleep. A centaur who fits in so seamlessly with the silent nothing of a lazy woodland day cannot be a thriving one, you know that. Fingers running gently over the smooth wood of your flute, you contemplate playing him a tune. No brother of the forest should be left alone in sorry solace…

You approach on gentle cloven hooves, tail swishing gently in contemplation. Not nice to wake a fellow from his sleep, be he looks sad, and the day will soon be ending so he shouldn’t be left in the open as he is… Not nice to wake him up though.

But wake him up is what you do without even meaning to do it. A twig snaps under your feet, not even loud, but your brother gives a start and his eyes fly open before you can even be ten feet from him.

You give him an easy smile, poor fucker scared witless by the looks of it and unable to get up fast enough to run.

‘Don’t be all afraid, brother,’ you say gently, going to sit criss-cross on the soft mat of leaves. He has very big brown eyes - not a shred of harm in him, you can know that just be looking, but a whole lot of hurting under his sun-kissed skin. So motherfucking sad, and so motherfucking wrong, too - no one in this world of miracles should have such hardship to bear.

‘I’m Gamzee,’ you begin a again, ‘cause introductions are what’s in order when meeting someone new, right? ‘I live ‘round here, I guess. Live much where I wanna. Play my music to the sun and the moon, and any fucker who asks, really.’

The centaur blinks, still so distrusting, but says eventually in a quiet voice, ‘Tavros. My name’s Tavros.’ And  _oh_ , his voice is beautiful - so gentle, so soft, so smooth; like music even though he ain’t even started singing. You bet those lips could bring the prettiest tune, if he weren’t so small and shy all the time. Or maybe even then, you don’t know - he’s a miracle shrouded in mystery, but a miracle all the same.

‘Want me to play you a tune, my brother? Might help you get your rest on.’ He looks at the sky; at the wisps of white fluff that drift across the darkening blue, and notes the tone of sunlight that spills down through the leaves.

‘I don’t have time,’ says Tavros. ‘In slept too long. I need to leave…’ He doesn’t look happy. He must be comfy where he is, doesn’t want to move on legs that must hurt, and if that doesn’t send pangs of pitying pain through your chest then you’re full goat and he’s full horse.

‘Hush, Tavbro,’ you say, with another of your easy smiles. ‘I’ll sit and stay. Play a song for the stars. You don’t got to worry ‘bout nothing.’ His gaze is still distrustful be there’s something there as well that lets you push that awful thing aside.

‘You mean it?’

‘Sure as sure can be. I’d sell my tail on it, brother, I’m not leaving a fellow alone in the dark.’ A moment, and then he smiles, and if that one little change doesn’t make him  _breathtaking_. You don’t know who in the world could hurt him, not with a smile and a face and a voice like that, and as you bring up your flute you swear on every note you form, that that smile shall never be banished again.

You gather the breath in your lungs, and play. The notes you make are a deep warm brown, like the earth, and the trees, and the colour of his eyes. Your eyelids drift down as you birth those new sounds, a miniature song in each and every one of them, bringing them into being like a leaf into the spring and the final thing you see is that face lit up in lovely, innocent wonderment.

Not as you live, and he lives, and the two of you live together, not a single thing on this wonderful world will make this beautiful boy stop smiling.


End file.
